“It’s simply a question of practice,” said Naomi as he lost the mana for a third time before reaching the far wall. “Also, don’t forget that you’re working with Coal; it resists manipulation, has all the subtlety of an avalanche of gravel. Have patience, don’t grow frustrated, and try again.”
It was easy to tell him not to grow frustrated. Sometimes the mana would slip forth before he’d taken a few steps; sometimes he’d hold onto it right up to the point where he was about to touch the wall, but the very excitement of having almost achieved that record would destabilize him in turn.
But slowly, painfully, he made progress. By the time First Clay become First Rust, he’d managed to touch the far wall and return across the room, feeling all the while as if he were balancing spinning plates all over his body.
“That’s enough for now. Well done. I saw Great Souls who for weeks couldn’t rise to their feet without losing focus. You seem particularly motivated today.”
He smiled gratefully and remained silent again about his plans for the next Eighthday. If he was going to fight alongside Lianshi and Leonis, he wanted to be at his absolute best. He’d do whatever it took to maximize his gains before then.
“What now?” he asked, stomach gurgling with hunger.
“Let’s go for a walk,” said Naomi, rising to her feet.
“A walk?”
“A walk. You’re locked in the habit of all Cinders, where you must stop and focus, even close your eyes, to tell the quality of the mana around you. We’re going to walk, and you’re going to try and sense the quality, density, and quantity of the mana around you as we go.”
Scorio nodded slowly. “You can obviously do that yourself?”
Her smile was just shy of mocking. “Of course.”
“Great. Can our walk loop by a gruel fountain?”
“It can.”
They walked for the entirety of First Rust, moving slowly through the ruins, Naomi prompting him to check every now and again when the mana around them changed. The best he could do was narrow his eyes as he summoned his Heart, and only then get a rough sense of what manner of mana lay about them; his walk would slow, and he’d grow almost oblivious to the world around them as he focused on the dark clouds.
Each time he lost track of where he was, Naomi would shove him, sending him sprawling. Each time he bit back his anger, bowed his head in apology, and rose to try again.
And it was fascinating. At first, all Coal mana had seemed the same to him, but now that he was focusing exclusively on its properties, he started to sense fine differences. In some areas the mana moved fluidly through the air, blowing past him like a low wind; in others, it hung still and stagnant, heavy like a shroud.
“The slower the mana moves, the denser it is,” Naomi told him. “What is better, denser or lighter mana?”
“Denser,” said Scorio immediately. “The more mana is present around me, the quicker I can fill my Heart.”
“The answer is: it depends.” Naomi walked along the edge of the ruined street, constantly glancing about them as they went. “Dense mana doesn’t move, which means you‘ve got to move instead if there isn’t sufficient mana to power your techniques. The more insubstantial the mana, the more it will flow into areas that have been drained, so that you might be able to remain stationary and let the mana come to you.”
“So it’s all the same?” Scorio glanced sidelong at her. “You have to move to suck up dense mana, or stand still to let light mana come to you?”
“It’s not all the same. Some densities are such that you can fuel your power from one small area alone. Others are so light that no amount washing over you will allow you to ignite. You simply must be aware of the nature of the mana around you, and adapt your battle plan accordingly. That’s not to mention how Great Souls can weaponize their use of mana to the detriment of their foes.”
“How so?”
She smiled. “We’re getting further than what you need to know but suffice to say the more adept a Great Soul is at controlling and siphoning mana from the area, the better they can deprive their foes of the very same mana. One of the trainers at the Academy while I was there had this ability to draw on the mana around her foes, leaving them in empty bubbles and depriving them of fuel.”
“Oh…” said Scorio, picturing it. “So you can win a fight just by preventing your foe from drawing on the ambient mana?”
“Unless, of course, they’ve mastered the ability to saturate their Hearts ahead of time,” said Naomi. “Though techniques will burn through reserved mana quickly, forcing all but the greatest of Great Souls to reach out to that which is around them. Of course, that all changes when you reach Pyre Lord.”
Scorio nodded thoughtfully, knowing better than to ask for more details.
“It’s also why Great Souls leave Bastion once they grow more powerful,” continued Naomi, turning onto an avenue that Scorio knew led into Bastion proper four blocks away. “Even Iron will barely sustain a Flame Vault or Dread Blaze without their focusing on mana manipulation. Pyre Lords and up are supposed to feel as if they’re asphyxiating.”
“Huh. Except the closer they get to the Pit, the better the mana?”
Naomi nodded. “So don’t believe everything they tell you about our most powerful members dedicating themselves solely to the war against the fiends. They’re out there mostly to take advantage of the higher quality mana. Rare is the Great Soul that will settle for weaker technique to remain in Bastion.”
“Praximar is a Pyre Lord,” pointed out Scorio.
“Praximar is a weak excuse for a Pyre Lord,” said Naomi, “who is content to lord his rank over everyone else at the expense of never gaining more power. It’s a miracle he passed Dread Blaze.”
Scorio walked in silence for a few moments, avoiding clumps of rocks and ankle-twisting cracks, and then smiled at her. “You seem very knowledgeable about all this, given that you claimed to know next to nothing before.”
Naomi blushed and looked away angrily. “I overheard a few things while sweeping the Academy’s halls. Found some hidden places from which I could listen in on lectures.”
“I’m sure you did. Were any of them hidden passageways? We used one last night to access the basilica.”
She couldn’t resist a complicit smile. “They might have been.”
He laughed. “I bet the Academy is riddled with them.”
“You’ve no idea,” said Naomi. “There are degrees of secret passages. Those known by the servants who use them for shortcuts. Those known by the bulk of the students, those the trainers turn a blind eye to being used, those that you’d get in real trouble for using, and then all the genuinely secret ones that aren’t on the maps.”
“Huh.” Scorio mulled that over. “Any that allow students to get out of the Academy? Or others to get in?”
“Sure,” said Naomi, “but those are dangerous to use.”
Scorio nodded soberly.
They entered Bastion, made their way to one of the gruel plazas, and there lined up to refill their pails. They stood in companionable silence, shuffling forward every few moments, until Naomi said lightly, gaze resting easily on the rooftops across from them, “Don’t look, but there’s a man dressed in black robes on the northern side of the plaza who’s trying very hard not to glare at you.”
Scorio stiffened but then forced himself to relax. Kept his gaze on the great clamshell fountain, watching as an elderly lady laboriously dipped her pail into the simmering, pale green gruel. “That so?”
And casually he knelt to tighten his sandal, and while doing so looked toward the north.
A round-shouldered man in faded black robes immediately looked away and then slipped into a side street and was gone.
“Great,” said Scorio softly, rising once more to his feet. “I think I recognized him. Part of a crew that works the Narrows. They waylaid me when I first went to see Dola.”